


Levels

by Kellyjelly



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Acts of Kindness, Anal Sex, But adorable stalking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dry Humping, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Forgiveness, Friends to Lovers, Hair stroking, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, John Needs A Hug, Kissing, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Romance, Sadness, Sherlock Gets Drunk, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Sherlock is a meanie, Slow Build, Stalking, Sweet Moments, Sweet touches, True Love, john is mute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyjelly/pseuds/Kellyjelly
Summary: Sherlock never imagined that he would fall for someone like John Watson, a young sweet man who’s mute and was bullied for being mute, but hopefully Sherlock erases those hurtful memories and proves to John that he loves him dearly.





	1. Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is my very first johnlock fic and I hope it is satisfying to those who read it. I’m trying my best to keep Sherlock in character but every now and then he’ll be out of character and just act as a sweetheart. Enjoy it!

The sun was making its way up in the sky, providing light to those who need it. To illuminate the roads and buildings that were frozen in place. Each bright ray that came from the sun, were hitting different places at the same time. The natural light that came from the sun invaded every home, letting every human being know that it was morning. Every person in London felt the sun, even John felt it. The sweet warmth on his face made him smile. He slowly opened his eyes and lifted his hands to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. John rolled onto his back and silently sighed. Like every day, he would open his mouth to speak but he couldn’t. He tried to form any random words that he could say out loud but nothing came out. John raised his hand to his throat and deeply inhaled. He closed his eyes and he was taken back to his past. 

John remembered when he was young, his parents considered him an “odd” child. His mum and dad would always treat him delicately because of his silent defect. As a baby, he never understood what his defect was until he reached an age where he began walking and understood the large vocabulary his parents threw his way. At the age of 10, his parents sat him down and explained how when he was born, he had a certain “defect” which involved his vocal cords being damaged. Since his vocal cords were damaged, he naturally couldn’t talk or form out any words. His parents told him the truth, John was mute. Due to John being young, he didn’t understand how this would affect him. As an immature young boy, he found it cool that he didn’t have to talk but once school required him to speak out loud, he finally comprehended why the ability of not speaking would affect him. A lot of kids would bully him, call him hurtful names, and made fun of him whenever they had a chance. Everyday, John would come home crying to his parents and tried to explain what happened, but his tears were the only words he could form. After some time, his parents hired a tutor to teach sign language to John. By the time he reached 18, he was fluent in sign language and for the first time he was able to talk to his parents and they would understand him. He and his parents would have full conversations and it lastly made John happy. His parents were the only ones who never humiliated him except his sister, Harry. She would always bug him and laugh at the fact that he couldn’t say anything. Thanks to his early experience of being bullied, he was used to harsh comments thrown his way or at least he was numb to them. His parents encouraged him to continue his dreams and never let his defect put him down. John continued his education and he got his degree in medicine and pursued the desire to be doctor. With his heart in his mouth, he went from hospital to hospital trying to get a job. Each hospital wouldn’t give him a job because he was mute. John tried his best to convince those who rejected him that he can flourish in a hospital environment but he was harshly waved away. He gave up trying to get a job as a doctor, then one day he decided to join the army. Again, he was rejected, the recruiter told him to hit the road and forget about joining the army. The recruiter made it clear that they didn’t want to take care of a baby who couldn’t even speak. John walked away, sad and worthless. He returned home and forced himself to find any job and move out of his parents’ house. It took a few try’s but he managed to get a job at a café. The owners were good people and they were the first ones to not discriminate against John and luckily, they knew sign language as well. They trained him and made it possible for John to run things smoothly without having problems with the customers. 

At this point, he was stuck in this part of his life, living in a small room and working to earn money to survive. As John came back to his senses, he looked to his left and realized how empty the space was next to him. For years, he’s been alone and he wondered how it would be to have someone at his side and have that person accept him the way he is. His mind drifted to remember what day it was. It’s Friday, yep he works today. He looks to his right and sees the time. It’s 8:30 am, well he has an hour and a half to get ready and go to work. 

  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

  
  
Sherlock was in his flat, sitting in his armchair with his eyes closed and his hands under his chin forming a pyramid, his usual thinking stance. He heard Mrs. Hudson roaming away downstairs and making tea, as always. His mind was racing around with one prominent word, **Bored**. Sherlock hasn’t had a case in weeks, well to be accurate, months. He’s been home everyday waiting for Lestrade to text him about a new case or show up at his flat to deliver any kind of news but nothing came. Sherlock was about to get up and play his violin when he heard the downstairs door open and the sound of footsteps rushing upstairs.  Yes. Sherlock mentally smiled and remained unmoved as he heard his door open, “Hello Lestrade. You have a case for me.” 

“None has come up.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes and lifted himself off his chair and grabbed his silver revolver and started to shoot bullets towards his wall in front of him. Lestrade started to laugh at Sherlock’s reaction. 

“Is it really possible that every person who commits crimes has vanished? I need a case Lestrade. Find me a case.” Sherlock annoyingly remarked. 

“Sorry mate but none are appearing.” 

“Then why are you here? Your useless information is of no use to me. A simple text would have been enough.” Sherlock went to sit down in his chair again. 

“Eh, I wanted to come in person and see your reaction. Besides we can go out a bit and keep you away from this flat.” Lestrade suggested. 

Sherlock directed his gaze to Lestrade. “I have no desire to leave thank you.” 

“Come on Sherlock. Let’s get food cause I’m starving.” 

Sherlock ruffled his curls, “Um noooo… and digesting slows me down.” 

“You don’t have to eat. I’ll order something and I’ll eat in front of you.” Lestrade chuckled. 

“Sounds very boring.” 

Mrs. Hudson was making her way upstairs and entered Sherlock’s room, “Oh hello Greg. Sherlock when will you leave this flat and do something for once in your life.” 

Sherlock eyed Mrs. Hudson. “Mrs. Hudson, isn’t there a tray of biscuits in the oven that require more attention than me.” 

Lestrade gave up on trying to convince Sherlock to go out. “Well, I’ll leave you two to bicker about tea and biscuits.” 

Sherlock’s eyes followed Lestrade. “Lestrade, I may need a bit of fresh air.” Sherlock got up and went inside his bedroom to quickly change. 

  
  
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ 

  
  
With his long coat and navy-blue scarf, Sherlock hurriedly went down the stairs and stood outside waiting for Lestrade to follow him. “Where too?” 

Lestrade looked around, “Let’s go to Speedy’s. It’s just right here.” 

Sherlock stared at Lestrade, “You made me walk outside just to enter Speedy’s.” 

Lestrade began laughing. “Of course, I’m getting a sandwich. Join along if you want.” 

Sherlock placed his hands behind his back and lazily followed Lestrade inside. He stood next to Lestrade and assessed the menu. “The distraction of our bodies yearning for food is quite baffling. Very dull and boring.” 

“Unlike you Sherlock, normal people like me enjoy food and having a full stomach.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked around the empty café. Lestrade decided to go with the BLT sandwich and approached the counter. He noticed a smaller man who perceived Lestrade’s presence and politely signaled Lestrade that he’ll be right up. Lestrade smiled and patiently waited to be served. “Sherlock.” 

“Hm.” The detective looked at Lestrade. 

Lestrade whispered, “He’s new, isn’t he?” 

Sherlock directed his ocean blue eyes towards the smaller man who had fair skin with a light tan and short brown hair with slight streaks of grey hair. “He recently began working here, eight months ago. This is his primary job, comes in about 4-5 days a week. Always has morning shifts and rarely has any night shifts. Doesn’t live far from here, probably three blocks away. He lives alone and has no pets-“ 

Lestrade interrupted Sherlock, “For god sakes Sherlock. You didn’t have to give me his whole life story. Give the man some dignity or some mystery to those who don’t read people in one look.” 

Sherlock smirked, “It keeps me functioning. Also, to show that my deducing skills haven’t left at all.” 

“Well deduce in your brain and stop being a show off.” 

“With pleasure.” Sherlock locked his gaze onto the smaller man approaching him and Lestrade, and continued his deductions. 

The nice-looking man approaches them and offers a warm smile. 

“Hello- “Lestrade looks down at the man’s name tag. “John.” John smiles again. 

“Can I have the BLT sandwich and a coffee.” 

John writes down the customer’s order and signals with his hand if the man wanted to eat here. 

Lestrade looks at Sherlock at shakes his head, “No, I’ll take it go. Thank you.” 

John nods and smiles. 

Sherlock was a bit confused as to why this ‘John’ didn’t speak a word. “Why didn’t you ask him whether he wanted to eat here or take it to go instead of signaling?” 

John froze and wasn’t sure how to answer. 

“Sherlock. No need to ask, it’s none of your business.” Lestrade pulled his arm. 

Sherlock searched John’s entire face and body to figure out this small detail that was absolutely bugging him. “I mean every human being is capable of speaking. It is a natural skill we all possess, so why refrain from speaking, John?” 

John wanted to speak, to tell this man to piss off but he couldn’t therefore he felt vulnerable and powerless. 

Lestrade raised his voice, “Sherlock, why are you getting worked up about this?” 

Sherlock glanced at Lestrade, “Remember, I’m bored and I haven’t had a case in months, so I will bother this man until my question is answered. Judging from the time your order went through the kitchen in the back, that would put us at waiting for twenty minutes. So, that would’ve meant that we were going to stand around doing nothing while you would try to have a small chit chat with me. So, to prevent any dull human interactions with you, Lestrade, I find myself pressuring this man to answer a simple question. Which by the way, this is pretty fun. Now back to you.” He pointed at John. “You’re a healthy man in your late 20s heading into your 30s and you’re struggling to acquire enough money to keep your small flat. You were struggling to find a job when you left your parents’ house. Yet, you have a degree in medicine, from the told of your hands, someone lets you practice in their private lab to console your failed accomplishment which you moronically couldn’t accomplish. A bit of a step down, for someone who went through all that trouble to get a degree and end up working at Speedy’s. So, you have endured a common problem that most people must have gone through in their lives. And funny enough, all this information about you still doesn’t answer the fact as to why you didn’t speak.” 

John was humiliated and shocked. Who does this man think he is? Telling John’s life story without skipping a beat. Yet, what stung John the most, was to listen to this man mentioning his failures and how pathetic he was for working at a café. 

Lestrade slapped Sherlock’s shoulder. “Sherlock, shut up!” 

Sherlock leaned closer to the smaller man, “Shall I continue my deductions about you or will you just tell us why you didn’t speak.” 

John hated this man in front of him. He wanted to stand his ground but what was the point. John looked at the two men in front of him and bit the inside of his cheek. He signed, “I’m mute.” 

Sherlock studied the signals John did with his hand, he didn’t catch the words that were being said but he had a clear idea of what this man signaled. He felt like a complete dickhead and stood shocked in place. Lestrade faced Sherlock and he immediately wanted to punch the detective in the face. 

“What the hell is happening? Are you the one bugging John?” The owner of Speedy’s appeared and pointed at Sherlock. 

“I’m sorry he didn’t mean- “Lestrade was cut off. 

The older man placed himself in front of John, shielding him from the tall idiot. “He didn’t mean to what? Humiliate my worker and make fun of the fact that he’s mute. John can very much hear you, he has feelings too and just because he’s different, it doesn’t give you the right to find his weakness and hurt him. You know it’s people like you who are worthless pricks.” 

Sherlock didn’t respond to the owner, instead his blue eyes searched for John’s gaze and tried to find the right word to express his regret and forgiveness, but he remained silent. 

“Get out! Both of you!” The older man shouted. 

Lestrade complied with the man’s orders and left the café without his food. The detective didn’t move from his spot and continued staring at John. 

“Get out you freak!” The owner shouted again. 

Sherlock composed himself and stood up straighter and left. He accompanied a distressed Lestrade outside and stayed quiet. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lestrade abruptly asked. 

The detective looked back inside the café and kept his gaze on John and ignored Lestrade’s question. 

Lestrade became annoyed and placed himself in front of Sherlock’s face. “Sherlock, what the hell was that?” 

Sherlock stepped away from Lestrade, “I imagined this situation going another way. I would have expected him to shout and become incredibly angry which would have led to him trying to pick a fight with me. I would’ve accepted his attempt to fight me due to the fact that I haven’t had someone try to inflict violence upon me for a while. It would have been a pleasure to feel that long lost adrenaline pumping through my veins but I made a huge mistake.” 

Lestrade shakes his head disapprovingly and laughs, “I need to find you a case so I can prevent you from insulting and humiliating people.” 

Sherlock nodded in agreement and the two men walked a few steps back to Sherlock’s flat. Lestrade left Sherlock at the front door and he was about to walk away when Lestrade felt a light hand tapping his shoulder. He turned around and was faced with John, “Oh… John.” 

Sherlock quickly turned around and observed John. 

John lifted a bag containing Lestrade’s order. “You forgot your order.” John signed. 

Lestrade wasn’t quite sure what John was saying but he got the general idea. “Thank you. You didn’t have too, due to what happened back there.” 

John smiled sadly and signed, “It’s okay.” He turned around to head back to work and his eyes met Sherlock’s. John stood still and pressed his lips together and calmly made his way back to the café. 

Sherlock’s eyes followed John and his lips parted to word a few lines of regret but again, nothing came out. Lestrade made eye contact with Sherlock and the detective went inside his flat, and slammed the door behind him. 

Mrs. Hudson jumped at the sudden noise. “You’re back early. Why so quickly?” 

Sherlock slowly went upstairs, “Don’t disturb me Mrs. Hudson, thank you.” He disappeared upstairs into his flat and he removed his coat. He looked at his hands and walked towards his window and replayed the whole forced conversation he had with John. Sherlock placed his hands behind his back and wondered why he felt a heavy guilt rising in his chest. Usually in these situations, he would apologize swiftly and forget about the incident, but this was different. He felt horrible, there was a longing pain that keeps appearing in his heart. This was the first time that he felt… sentiment for something or specifically a person. Sherlock was conflicted with the array of emotions crossing his brain so, instead he removed his suit, and picked up his violin from his chair and played a soft slow tune.


	2. Too Much To Ask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock apologizes but he’s expecting John to accept his apology with open arms. He was mistakened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers, here’s the next chapter. I just wanted to remind everyone that John is mute, so his dialogue will be italicized. Also, if you do not like the way I portray the characters please don’t waste your time and reading the story just to leave a mean comment. If I’m not satisfying your cravings please find another author who will satisfy your cravings :). Toodles!

For four weeks, Sherlock was cooped up in his flat, never leaving at any time. He would remain at his window and not engage in any conversation with anyone. This was unlike Sherlock, Mrs. Hudson has studied his strange behavior and she was extremely concerned. Whenever she would go upstairs to see if Sherlock was at least still alive, she would find him reading books, looking out the window, or playing the violin. 

Mrs. Hudson couldn’t understand what Sherlock was doing these days. “Dearie, are you alright?” 

“Of course.” 

The landlady wanted to question the detective a bit more but she shook her head and went downstairs to phone Lestrade. 

  
  
*********** 

  
  
“Mrs. Hudson, what’s wrong?” Greg asked as he rushed into the building. 

“Oh dear, I’m sorry for rushing you here but Sherlock has me worried.” 

“Me too. I’ve texted him regarding a bunch of cases I need help with, but he doesn’t reply. What’s with him?” Lestrade questioned. 

The older woman shrugged, “How should I know what goes on in that funny brain of his?” 

Greg sighed and showed Mrs. Hudson a folder that contained a bunch of cases. “Let’s see if these babies will snap him out of his trance.” Lestrade went upstairs and didn’t bother to knock as he entered Sherlock’s flat. “Sherlock?” 

Sherlock was by the window; his hands were behind his back. “What is it Lestrade?” 

Greg slammed the folder against a table, “I’ve got cases for you.” The detective remained silent. “Many cases. Cases involving murder, blood, violence, and mangled body parts.” Sherlock still didn’t move or answer. Lestrade was beginning to worry at the lack of reaction. “There’s genocide involved.” 

Sherlock faced the D.I., “You’re lying about the genocide part.” 

“Yes. I just needed a word to capture your attention. Sherlock, what the hell is happening to you? Ever since that encounter with what’s his name?” 

“John.” The detective answered immediately which in return, he received a lifted eyebrow from Greg. 

“Yes. Ever since that little problem with John, you’ve been acting extremely odd.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Thank you for your visit but I don’t need all those cases.” 

Lestrade was baffled at hearing those words coming out of the man’s mouth. “Sherlock what- “ 

The detective walked over to Lestrade and grabbed the folder from the table and gave them to Greg and shoved him out of the flat. “Goodbye, Lestrade.” 

Sherlock closed the door and went to grab his book and began to study again. 

  
  
*********** 

  
  
The detective was studying his book when he heard the familiar clicking of Mycroft’s shoes coming up to his flat. Sherlock immediately hid the book and remained seated. 

The door flung open and Mycroft stepped inside. “Ah, my favorite little brother still exists. That’s lovely to know.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek. “What do you want, Mycroft?” 

“It’s been almost a month and you haven’t left your flat. I want to know why?” Mycroft studied Sherlock and tried to find the hidden truth. 

The detective got up from his chair and walked towards the window, “Is it too much to ask for some peace and quiet? Maybe, I want to stay in Mycroft. I thought you’d be able to deduce that. Oh, dear brother, you truly are becoming rather slow.” 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and examined his brother, “Does this have anything to do with the young man you insulted over a month ago? The man who is currently working at Speedy’s right now. A man named John Hamish Watson. Does this have anything to do with him?” 

Sherlock was still looking at the window and the faintest quirk in his lips turned into a small smile as he mentally thanked Mycroft for revealing John’s full name. He’d been wracking his brain trying to figure out the man’s name but thanks to his idiotic brother, he acquired that valuable information. His smile disappeared as he faced his brother, “No. Why would I be interested in him?” 

Mycroft smiled sinisterly. “Well, according to Mrs. Hudson and-“ He said the next name with such sweetness. “Gregory Lestrade.” The sudden drop in Mycroft’s voice caused Sherlock to lift his eyebrow in suspicion. “You’ve been acting peculiar ever since the incident. You’ve been locked in here, taking zero cases, and not chasing killers. Did that encounter affect you in any way?” 

Sherlock glared at his brother. “No.” 

Mycroft walked up to his little brother. “Dear brother, are we feeling sentiment towards this man?” 

The detective remained passive, not daring to show any emotion or weakness. “No and even if I did, why would you care?” 

“Tsk. Tsk. Oh Sherlock, even if you did have interest in this John, do you honestly think he’ll like you. I mean, he is a bit simple for your taste. I’d expect you to have done a lot better than him. Above all that, he’s mute. How useless he would be to you, imagine being surrounded by pure silence the whole time. How tedious. Come on Sherlock, are we hitting rock bottom?” 

Sherlock placed his hands behind his back and bit back the urge to punch his brother square in the face for saying those words. Instead he decided to hit a nerve, “Well, Lestrade is not your type at all, yet you both clearly have taken interest in each other to the point where you both have slept with each other already. Yet, as much of an idiot that he is, I do not question your choice. I do not ask why you chose him specifically because I simply do not care. So, do not come to me with this speech of me choosing someone below my title. I choose whoever the hell I want and I do not need your permission to seek out someone. So, dear brother, will you have the intelligence to. Leave. Me. Alone.” The detective spit the last words out with such a force that it almost tasted like venom. 

Mycroft held his umbrella and walked away. “Sherlock, from what I saw and heard from your little conversation. Its seems that you truly insulted that man. A word of advice, don’t expect him to accept your apology in a heartbeat.” With that the elder Holmes left, leaving Sherlock in doubt. 

  
  
********* 

  
  
Sherlock was in his flat, fully dressed, except for his Belstaff coat. He walked to his coat hanger and retrieved his long gorgeous coat. He slid the piece of fabric onto himself and looked at his watch. It read eleven pm, he knew that John was closing tonight. Thanks to the detective looming at his window everyday, he managed to learn John’s schedule and he needed a day where John would close by himself. Sherlock waited for five more minutes and right on schedule, rain began to pour from the skies, showering London. The detective smirked and headed downstairs. 

  
  
********** 

  
  
John was wiping down the tables when he heard the loud raindrops outside. He frowned at not listening to the weather anchor this morning while getting dressed. Since he was the only one closing today, he’ll have to walk back to his flat under the cold rain. 

The owner of Speedy’s came out of his office and handed John his check, “You sure you can close up alone?” John nodded. “Alright, get home safely John. Goodnight.” 

John waved the older man goodbye and resumed to cleaning. 

Sherlock was under the rain, waiting patiently for the owner of Speedy’s to leave. The detective waited until he saw the older man exiting the restaurant and heading for his car. He watched as the older man finally drove away. Sherlock smiled and stayed in the rain for a minute longer and headed towards Speedy’s. He peered through the windows and saw John cleaning. The detective moved his wet curls away from his face and opened the door quietly. 

John was to busy putting away the broom and mop into the closet that he didn’t hear Sherlock come in. The detective stood inside the restaurant waiting for John to notice him, water was dripping down his body, making a huge puddle around him. John turned around to fix the chairs when he paused at the sight of a man inside, the same man who humiliated him, what was his name, Berlock, Jerlock, no it was S-Sherlock, yes Sherlock. The shorter man was taken back by the man’s drenched appearance. 

Sherlock lifted his hands up to show he meant no harm, “Before you jump to conclusions, I came here to- “ 

The detective didn’t finish his last words for a chair was flying his direction. Sherlock ducked in time, sparing himself from meeting of the cold touch of the wooden chair. Then John grabbed another chair and threw it to Sherlock, this time the detective couldn’t duck in time and the chair bonked the side of his head. Sherlock was disoriented for a bit but he remained harmless, “Wait. Wait. Please, I’m not here to cause any trouble.” 

John was not listening to this man at all, he began to throw anything close by, he threw plates, forks, cups, anything that could hurt this man. Then John remembered, they had knives in the kitchen. The shorter man sprinted towards the kitchen but Sherlock used his long legs to his advantage and jumped over the counter and blocked the entrance to the kitchen. “Please don’t get the knives.” 

John was surprised as to how this man knew he wanted to get the knives. He backed away and tried to see what else he could use against this Sherlock. 

The detective tried to approach John but the shorter man was not having it. Sherlock panted out, “You can talk.” 

John was not sure what this man’s game was but he wasn’t giving in. Sherlock saw that John was still not completely comfortable with him so he continued talking. “I know sign language. I’ve been studying it for weeks and now I understand it. So, we can talk.” 

John’s heavy breathing was hindering and he was hesitant to converse with this man, _how can someone learn sign language in a couple of weeks, it took me years_. He began the conversation, “ _What is your game?_ ” 

Sherlock sighed in relief, “I have no game. I came here to apologize for everything I said. I-I couldn’t function properly without coming here and making things right.” The detective felt so open and vulnerable, he’s never been so honest to anyone before but for some reason, he didn’t despise it, rather he welcomed it. Sherlock slowly approached John and was happy to see that he didn’t back away. 

The shorter man felt touched, no one in his entire life has ever apologized to him. When he was young, all those kids who bullied him never once apologized to him, adults who have insulted him didn’t even think of saying sorry. Now this person, Sherlock, was genuinely apologizing for his actions. John was this close to accepting his apology, but those words really did sting his heart. He remained silent as he allowed Sherlock to get closer to him. 

“Please accept my apology. I’m-I’m not very good at this. I’m not used to these things. This is all I can do, to show how deeply sorry I am.” Sherlock said softly. 

John looked down at the puddles of water everywhere and up at Sherlock, “ _It’s sweet of you to come here and apologize but I don’t accept your apology._ ” He walked past Sherlock and grabbed a mop, “ _I think it’s better that you leave_.” 

Sherlock was well… stuck, he expected John to happily accept his apology but he figured that Mycroft was right. “Please, what could I do to make you accept my apology.” He begged. 

“Don’t waste your time.” He walked towards the door and opened it for Sherlock. 

The detective was beyond confused and wasn’t completely understanding what was happening but he forced his legs to walk through the door. John closed the door behind him and resumed to cleaning the new mess. 

Once John finished, he turned off the lights and grabbed his bag. He stepped outside and locked the door as he brought down the roll down gate and locked up. John tiredly turned around when he saw Sherlock still standing outside. 

John was confused, “What are you doing?” 

“I’m not leaving until you accept my apology.” The detective demanded. 

John rolled his eyes and walked into the rain. Sherlock blocked him, “Please, you can stay in my flat for tonight. Your flat is blocks away and you’ll be completely soaked. I don’t mind if you stay here.” He pointed at the building next to Speedy’s. 

John felt his clothes sticking to him and he honestly just wanted to go home. “Please leave me alone.” 

Sherlock was running out of options, he seriously wanted to know why John was not accepting his apology, it was bothering him. He wasn’t thinking correctly, which is why his next move was probably the worst choice. The detective lost his patience and grabbed John, “Just accept my apology, please!” 

John panicked at the sudden force and instinctively used the heel of his hand and thrusted it upwards, meeting Sherlock’s nose. Sherlock released John and held his nose while he groaned at the pain. John took the opportunity and ran away. The detective’s eyes were watery from the pain in his nose, at least it wasn’t broken but it would swell horribly. He shouldn’t have grabbed John, dammit! Sherlock went inside his building and stomped his way up to his flat. He kicked down his chair and yelled as he felt a twitch of pain in his nose. Sherlock felt angry at his failed attempt to apologize and with all his force, he punched the wall, leaving a prominent dent. 

  
  
********** 

  
  
Since that night with the strange encounter with Sherlock, John came into his flat completely soaked in water. He tore off his wet clothes and jumped into the shower but of course, luck was not on his side for the next day he woke up with a runny nose and a horrible cough that burned his throat. John cursed at his stupid illness, getting sick was horrible, due to his vocal cords being damaged, every time he got sick, his throat would swell a bit, which made his coughs unbearable. He had to stay home and recover, he sent a message to his boss and with such calamity, his boss told him to stay home and get better. The older man assured him that he’ll have Chris take over for him. With a satisfied smile, John placed his phone on the nightstand and slept. 

After two days of being in bed, drinking tea, taking medicine, and repeating the whole process again, John’s mind kept drifting to that night. He went over how Sherlock genuinely wanted him to accept his apology. John was used to people not caring about his feelings and beating his confidence to ashes. He’s never felt any compassion before and seeing Sherlock begging for forgiveness, well, quite frankly it frightened John. John wasn’t sure how to react to Sherlock’s words. He began to feel guilt, he shouldn’t have overreacted and basically almost broke Sherlock’s nose but he was standing his ground and not showing any signs of feebleness. Then John realized that Sherlock meant well and as he analyzed the situation again, he concentrated on the smaller details. He remembered how Sherlock said that he studied sign language, then it hit him, he learned sign language for me. Then Sherlock’s appearance, he was willing to stand in the rain for him. 

John warmly smiled at the memory and realized that maybe Sherlock, was a good man. He forced himself to get up from his bed and get dressed, for he had a place to be. 

  
  
********** 

  
  
John bundled himself in a black leather jacket, a beige jumper beneath, dark blue jeans, and brown dress shoes. He occasionally had to sneeze and he hated that he’ll show up at Sherlock’s flat, sick. John reached 221B Baker Street and stuffed his tissues in his pockets and knocked on the black door. He waited patiently until he heard footsteps approaching the door. 

Mrs. Hudson quickly opened the door and smiled at the handsome stranger. “Hello.” John smiled and gave her a small nod in return. “How can I help you dearie?” 

John abruptly sneezed, “Sorry.” 

Mrs. Hudson brightened up, “Oh honey. You’re mute, aren’t you? That’s alright, a young man upstairs, Sherlock, has a ton of books concerning sign language and every once in a while, I sneak in and study a bit. I know a bit of sign language, so what do you need dearie?” 

“Is Sherlock here?” 

Mrs. Hudson let John in. “Of course, he is. He’s just upstairs, follow me.” John followed behind the kind woman and Mrs. Hudson politely asked him to stay by the stairs. She walked up to Sherlock’s door and knocked. “Sherlock?” 

There was no answer, so Mrs. Hudson opened the door and entered the room. She saw Sherlock rummaging through a pile of papers, “Sherlock, someone is here to see you.” 

“Tell Lestrade that I don’t want any cases at this moment.” 

Mrs. Hudson tried to make Sherlock speak a bit softer, so John wouldn’t hear him. “It’s not Lestrade dear, it’s a young handsome man.” She giggled excitedly. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and ruffled his curls as he walked across the room. “How is that any of my business. I don’t care if it’s the Prime Minister or the Queen of England coming over for a cup of tea. I’m not seeing anyone!” He shouted. “I’m not wasting my time on a nobody when my time is much more valuable. Send the stupid idiot away and leave me alone!” Sherlock shouted even louder. 

John heard every word and decided to leave, this was a bad idea. 

Mrs. Hudson looked back and saw the young attractive man leaving. “Oh no, don’t leave.” 

Sherlock stole a glance at the stairs when he instantly recognized the back of that man. The detective ran towards the door when he tripped on one of his experiments. “Dammit, Mrs. Hudson!! Can you please for once keep this flat clean!” Sherlock ran past her, “Why didn’t you tell me it was John?!” He barked out as he ran down the stairs, still wearing his blue pajamas and navy-blue silk robe. 

“I didn’t get his name and second of all, I’m not your housekeeper!” The older lady shouted. 

John was speed walking home, he seriously regretted coming here and irritating the man, of course, how wouldn’t he be angry if he nearly broke Sherlock’s nose. He checked the street before crossing but he missed the tall form running as fast a cheetah past him and placing himself in front of John. John instantaneously ran into the man’s broad chest and fell back, meeting the ground. He hit the concrete floor and sneezed, which made his throat burn like lava as his back began to feel pain. 

Sherlock quickly helped the shorter man up, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you fall. I should’ve calculated this better.” He gripped John tightly and hoisted him up. 

John dusted himself off when he realized that Sherlock was still holding on to him. It’s as if Sherlock read his mind and the detective released him and returned John’s stolen space. John studied the man’s features and felt incredibly bad for Sherlock’s nose, it was purple but thankfully not broken. 

The two men remained quiet until Sherlock cleared his throat and spoke. “What brings you here?” 

John pointed at Sherlock’s nose, “I’m sorry about that.” 

Sherlock chuckled. “That’s alright. I guess I deserved that. Sometimes a good hit on the nose is much needed and it helps to clear up the sinuses.” 

John chuckled and sadly smiled. “I really am sorry.” 

“Please, it’s fine.” 

John nodded, “Also, I came here to tell you that I accept your apology. I’m sorry if I seemed a bit rude that night but- “ 

Sherlock finished the rest of his sentence for him. “Since you grew up with people bullying you, especially your brother, you’ve become immune to the idea of people not begging for forgiveness. So, when I decided to apologize, you panicked and didn’t understand how to handle the situation. You’re not used to kindness.” 

John bit his lip and rolled on the heel of his shoes, as much as it irritated him, he honestly found it fascinating how Sherlock seemed to know everything about him. “ _I guess so. You got everything right except for one detail_.” Sherlock made a confused face. “ _I don’t have a brother. I have a sister_.” 

“A sister? Dammit, I was that close.” He huffed out annoyingly. 

John smiled at his reaction. “Well, I do appreciate-“ He sneezed and his face twisted in pain as his throat kept murdering him slowly. 

Sherlock was concerned about John’s pain. “Would you like to come to my flat? Mrs. Hudson has a specific tea that can help with the inflammation in your throat.” 

John rubbed his neck, “No, that’s okay. Besides you looked busy up there.” 

“Nonsense. I have nothing to do. Come on, I won’t do anything to you.” 

“Well, if you tried, I think I’ll actually have to break your nose.” John smiled. 

The detective smiled back, “Well, I guess that means, I must be alert at all times.” Sherlock lead the way. “Shall we?” 

John hesitated but one look into Sherlock’s ocean blue eyes and he gave in. They both walked quietly. “You know, we haven’t actually met properly.” The detective stopped and extended his hand. “I’m Sherlock Holmes.” 

“John Watson.” He took Sherlock’s pale hand and shook it. 

“Well then, welcome to 221B Baker Street.” Sherlock announced.


	3. Come Be My Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are on a case together!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is basically an interpretation of the study in pink, except I added in my own twists. Also, I wanted John to have a bit of the spotlight, because if you notice, in the first episode he’s kind of tossed around and forgotten, so I decided to change that. 
> 
> And there’s a bit of Mystrade!
> 
> Also, literally everyone in this chapter ships John and Sherlock really hard. 
> 
> Lastly, John’s dialogue is italicized for he only speaks sign language.

Sherlock led John into his flat, the detective purposefully offered John to go up the stairs first, so Sherlock could observe the smaller man and acquire more information about John. The blond reached the top of the stairs and entered the detectives’ flat, his eyes curiously danced around the flat. It seemed nice, cozy, and just right for a bachelor like Sherlock. 

The detective offered John to sit in the armchair, “Please, have a seat.” He sweetly smiled at John and faced the door. “Mrs. Hudson!” 

John sat down in the armchair and continued looking around the flat. Mrs. Hudson rushed up the stairs. “What is it dear?” 

“Mrs. Hudson, I was wondering if you could prepare a specific tea for John, to help reduce his inflammation in his throat.” 

The older woman smiled cheerily. “Oh, of course.” Mrs. Hudson pulled the detective closer. “Is he the one?” She asked quietly. 

Sherlock was confused. “I beg your pardon.” 

Mrs. Hudson giggled. “Oh, don’t be shy around me. Is he your boyfriend? Is he coming to live with you?” 

“Tea! Mrs. Hudson.” The detective shouted as he walked to his armchair and sat down. 

“Right.” The older lady went downstairs sending one last wink to Sherlock which caused the man to roll his eyes. 

“It’s a nice flat.” John commented. 

“Thank you. Although, I am in the market for a flat mate. It’s hard to come across one these days.” 

John was intrigued by the skull resting on the mantelpiece. “I bet. Is he someone you knew?” He pointed at the skull. 

“No, he’s a friend.” 

The blond’s eyes widened for a second and he simply smiled at Sherlock. “Great.” 

Sherlock observed John. “You have a question.” 

John was perplexed. “How did you know —“ 

“I can basically hear it. So, ask away.” 

“How did you know that stuff about me? About my sister and… well, me not being used to kindness?” John questioned. 

Sherlock grinned excitedly. “I observed.” 

The blond wasn’t comprehending the detective’s answer. “How can you observe all that information? It’s not possible.” 

“It actually is. I call it the Science of Deduction.” 

“Don’t psychopaths usually have that trait?” 

Sherlock chuckled. “If you’d like to believe to that, sure. But I can assure you, I’m not a psychopath.” 

“Then what are you?” 

“A highly functioning sociopath.” Sherlock proudly stated. 

John couldn’t help but laugh, “Fascinating.” 

Sherlock was not used to someone appraising his special gift that everyone found annoying. His natural talent to deduce everything was usually despised by everyone except for John. He was genuinely shocked, “Really?” 

Before John could respond, Mrs. Hudson came in, interrupting the warm moment. “Here you go dearie. This will make the inflammation in your throat to die down a bit.” She handed the tea to John. 

“Thank you.” 

Sherlock was mentally asking Mrs. Hudson to leave so he could resume his conversation with John, but as expected, she didn’t leave. 

“If you don’t mind me saying so, you are honestly a handsome man.” She politely directed the compliment to John. 

The blond choked on his tea and blushed crazily as the older lady began to giggle. Sherlock was confused as to how Mrs. Hudson emitted this reaction from John. It intrigued him but why? Why was he curious? Why was he feeling a bit angry that it wasn’t him who caused John to react this way? This felt a bit like jealousy. Sherlock ignored the stupid thought and cautiously eyed John. 

Mrs. Hudson couldn’t stop her comments. “Oh now, don’t be shy. You really are. Look at that face, those eyes, your hair, and I’m sure your body is not disappointing. You’d be a delicious treat to whoever captures your heart.” She wiggled her eyebrows towards Sherlock. “Am I not right Sherlock?” 

Sherlock was busy taking in the details that Mrs. Hudson provided and he did consider John to be… well, a _very_ handsome man. John desperately sent a _help_ look towards the detective. “Mrs. Hudson, isn’t there a pie waiting be baked somewhere?” 

Mrs. Hudson slapped Sherlock’s shoulder. “No there isn’t a pie to be baked.” She looked at John. “Oh, sorry John. I didn’t mean to embarrass you but I couldn’t help rambling about your sexiness.” 

John couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out into laughter. “It’s alright.” 

Mrs. Hudson headed into the kitchen and came back with a newspaper in hand. “What about these suicides, then Sherlock? Are you going back to solve this one? I thought that’d be right up your street. Three exactly the same.” 

Sherlock got up from his seat and walked towards the window. “Four.” He noticed something was wrong. “There’s been a fourth. And there’s something different this time.” 

“A fourth?” Mrs. Hudson questioned. 

Sherlock faced the door as Lestrade walked into his flat. “Where?” 

“Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” Lestrade huffed out. 

“What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.” 

“First of all, when I came to tell you about this case, you didn’t care. And now you do, why the sudden change? Never mind. You know how they never leave notes?” 

Sherlock nodded, “Yeah.” 

“This one did.” Lestrade prayed that this time, Sherlock will help him with this case. “Will you come please? I know that you’ve kept tabs on this case and I’ve seen you sneak onto the crime scenes. Stop ignoring these cases and just come.” 

Well, since John forgave Sherlock, the detective didn’t find any other excuse to ignore these cases. “Who’s on forensics?” 

“It’s Anderson.” 

Sherlock grimaced at the name. “Anderson won’t work with me.” 

Lestrade rolled his eyes. “Well, he won’t be your assistant.” 

“I need an assistant.” 

Lestrade ignored the request. “Will you come?” 

“Not in a police car. I’ll be right behind.” 

The D.I. smiled, “Thank you.” He barely noticed John sitting down. “Oh, hello John. Nice to see you again. I hope this berk apologized to you properly. By the way, what happened to your nose, Sherlock?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Never mind that, go on, I’ll catch up.” 

Lestrade waved John goodbye and went rushing down the stairs. Sherlock waited until Lestrade was out of the building and leapt into the air while clenching his fists in triumph, and then twirling happily around the flat. “Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides and now a note! Oh, it’s Christmas!” He reached for his scarf and coat. “John are you coming?” 

John finished his tea and looked at Sherlock, “What?” 

“Aren’t you coming?” 

“What help could I be to you?” 

Sherlock smiled. “Well, I need an assistant and you are a doctor, are you not?” 

John looked at his hands. “I just have my degree. I’ve never practiced on anyone before.” 

The detective pulled John from the armchair. “Well, today’s the day that you can prove to all those idiots that you are indeed a great doctor. Come on!!” Sherlock dashed down the stairs, while John followed behind him. 

Mrs. Hudson was at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, you both look so adorable.” 

Sherlock kissed Mrs. Hudson on the cheek, “Don’t wait up for us.” 

“You look too happy. It’s not decent.” The older lady commented. 

The detective released her and headed towards the door. “Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!” 

The two men walked outside as Sherlock hailed a taxi. “Taxi!” 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
Sherlock and John were in the taxi sitting silently. The detective was on his phone while John kept glancing at Sherlock. Sherlock noticed that the blond was itching to ask questions, so he lowered his phone and gave his attention to John, “Okay, you’ve got questions.” 

John was relieved that Sherlock spoke first. “Yeah. Where are we going?” 

“Crime scene. Next?” 

The blond faced Sherlock. “What do you do exactly?” 

“What do you think?” 

John slowly thought of an accurate answer. “I’d say private detective…” 

“But?” 

“… but the police don’t go to private detectives.” 

Sherlock smiled. “I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job.” 

“What does that mean?” John wondered. 

“It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me.” 

John was surprised. “That’s amazing.” 

Sherlock faced the blond. “Do you think so?” 

John agreed. “Of course. With an amazing brain like yours, why wouldn’t you put it to good use. I’m excited to see how you work with your deducing skills.” 

The detective looked out the window and he quirked his lips into small smile. “I’m excited to see how you work as well.” 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
Sherlock and John exited the taxi and headed towards the crime scene. They approached the police tape surrounding the premises and were greeted by Sergeant Donovan. “Hello, freak.” 

“I’m here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.” 

“Why?” Sergeant Donovan asked sassily. 

Sherlock was beginning to become irritated. “I was invited.” 

“Why?” 

The detective used his sarcastic voice. “Oh, I think he wanted me to take a look.” 

Sergeant Donovan had no choice but to let him through. “Well, you know what I think, don’t you?” 

Sherlock lifted the tape and went beneath it. “Always Sally. I even know, you didn’t make it home last night.” 

Sergeant Donovan wanted to punch Sherlock in the face. “I don’t…” As she was about to insult the detective, she noticed John. “Who’s this?” 

“Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson.” He faced John. “Doctor Watson, this is Sergeant Sally Donovan. A very old friend.” 

John was not used to the Doctor part in front of his name but he didn’t say anything about it. 

“A colleague? How do you get a colleague?!” Sally faced John. “Are you his boyfriend? Did he follow you home?” John shook his head. 

Sherlock lifted the tape for John. “Come on John.” 

The blond went beneath the tape as Sergeant Donovan lifted the radio to her mouth. “Freak’s here. Bringing him in.” Sally looked back at John. “I’m surprised at your taste, freak. He’s really cute. He’s honestly too cute to be your boyfriend.” 

John wanted to confirm that Sherlock and him weren’t a couple but the detective began talking as he saw Anderson. “Ah, Anderson. Here we are again.” 

Anderson made a disgusted face as Sherlock approached him. “It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?” 

“Quite clear.” 

Anderson faced John. “Who’s this? Is he your boyfriend?” The blond shook his head. Anderson took the opportunity to check out the smaller man. “He’s tasty. I’m surprised you were able to catch him without scaring him off first.” 

Sherlock angrily glared at Anderson. “Is your wife away?” 

Lestrade appeared at the front door. “Everybody shut up! Sherlock get your arse in here!” 

The detective grinned at Anderson and brushed past Sally. “Come along, John.” 

Sherlock and John entered the house and Lestrade smiled brightly. “You brought John! How fun. Sorry John but you must wear this.” 

Sherlock looked at the horrible blue coverall. “He doesn’t need to wear that. Here.” He gave John a pair of latex gloves. “Wear these and you’ll be fine. Where are we?” 

“Upstairs.” Lestrade led the two up a winding staircase, “I can give you two minutes.” 

Sherlock was placing on his gloves as they continued going up the stairs. “May need a bit longer.” 

Lestrade began to give the detective basic information about their victim. “Her name is Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her.” He entered the room containing the body, with John and Sherlock behind him. 

Sherlock looks at the body and begins to deduce the dead woman when he abruptly faced Lestrade. “Shut up.” 

The D.I. was startled. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You were thinking. It’s annoying.” 

Lestrade resisted the urge to slap Sherlock, instead he faced John. “So, John, are you a doctor or something?” 

Sherlock answered for John. “Yes, he is. Hence why I brought him here with me.” The detective left the two as he began to study the body closely. 

“Oh, you’re a doctor.” Lestrade asked excitedly. 

John shook his head, not agreeing with the D.I. “I only have my degree.” 

Lestrade hated that he didn’t understand John. “Oh, I feel awful that I don’t understand you. I should start studying sign language, so we can chat properly.” 

John gently reassured the man that he didn’t have to do that. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll start studying when I get home. Now, that you’ll be with us, I want us to always talk.” Lestrade smiled. 

John warmly smiled at the D.I. and silently agreed to Lestrade’s plan. Sherlock continued to gather information from every clue that was offered to him. Lestrade wanted to ask John another question when the blond sneezed. John tried his best to hold in his sneeze but he couldn’t hold it anymore and he forced himself to make the sneeze as quiet as possible but instead, it came out as an adorable squeaking sound. 

“Bless you.” Lestrade and Sherlock said in unison. 

Sherlock couldn’t help but store away that sound into his mind palace, hiding that sound in a file that contained every information about John. The D.I. couldn’t help but smile widely at the impossibly cute sound that the blond made. Lestrade couldn’t hide his smile, so he casually looked behind him as he gushed over the sound that John made. 

The detective lifted himself. “Doctor Watson, what do you think?” 

“What?” 

Lestrade faced the two, finally returning to his serious stance. “Have you found anything for me?” 

“Yes, but I would like Doctor Watson’s input as well.” Sherlock faced John. “John.” He pointed to the body and urged the blond to approach the dead woman. 

John faced the D.I. and silently asked for permission to step forward in order to examine the body. 

“Oh of course, go ahead.” Lestrade urged the blond to go and do what he had to do. 

John and Sherlock approached the body, the detective squatted down on one side of the body while John took the other side, resting himself on his knees. “Well?” Sherlock questioned. 

The blond was a bit lost. “What am I doing here?” 

“Helping me make a point.” The detective whispered. 

“What point?” John wondered. 

“That you’re an excellent doctor and you’ll be a great assistant for me.” 

John hesitantly came closer to the body and used all his knowledge that dealt with the medical field, in order to figure out how this woman died. The blond placed his head close to the woman’s hair and sniffed her body, then he lifted her hand and studied her skin. “Yeah… asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs.” 

Sherlock was secretly pleased that John wasn’t a total idiot. “You know what it was. You’ve read the papers.” 

John quickly remembered reading something about these familiar suicides. “What, she’s one of the suicides? The fourth…?” 

“Yeah, exciting isn’t it. Now, Sherlock, what the hell do you have for me?” Lestrade asked impatiently. 

Sherlock began his long explanation about the age of the woman, her ride to Cardiff, her unhappy marriage which resulted in her having a string of lovers, the presumed name that was carved into the wooden floor is Rachael and finishing with the obvious element, a suitcase. 

John admiringly stared at the detective as he finished his entire speech. “That’s fantastic.” 

Sherlock faced John, completely surprised. “Thank you.” 

Lestrade was beyond confused. “Why do you say suitcase? How do you know she had a suitcase?” 

The detective pointed at the small blotches of mud coloring the woman’s tights and began to explain how Jennifer had to drag a suitcase behind her, which caused these tiny splashes to land on her tights. Sherlock squatted down by the woman’s body and examined the back of her legs more closely. “Now, where is it? What have you done with it?” 

“There wasn’t a case.” Lestrade offered. 

Slowly, Sherlock lifted his head and frowned at the D.I. “Say that again.” 

“There wasn’t a case. There was never a case.” 

Sherlock got up and headed out the door. “Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in the house?” 

Lestrade and John followed the detective out of the room while the D.I. yelled at Sherlock. “Sherlock, shut up! There was no case!” 

Sherlock headed down the stairs. “John, come on! Lestrade, they take the poison themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot couldn’t miss them.” 

“Right, yeah, thanks! And…?” Lestrade questioned. 

John came down a few steps and found himself behind the detective. “It’s murder, all of them. I don’t know how, but they’re not suicides, they’re killings — serial killings.” Sherlock grabbed John’s arm and pulled him down the remaining stairs. 

“Why are you saying that!?” Lestrade shouted from the top of the stairs. 

Sherlock stopped his rapid pace and looked up. “Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did she eat it?! Someone else was here, and they took her case.” He faced John. “So, the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car.” 

“She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there.” John suggested. 

“No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She color coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. She’d never have left any hotel with her hair still looking…” Sherlock stopped talking and simply stared at John as he came to a realization. “Oh.” His eyes widened and his face lit up in excitement. “Oh!” The detective pulled John again. 

Lestrade shouted from the top of the stairs, “What is it?!” 

“There’s a mistake. Find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel!” Sherlock and John were at the entrance of the house. 

“Of course, yeah — but what mistake?!” Lestrade was still not understanding anything. 

Sherlock ran back from the entrance of the house and yelled at Lestrade. “PINK!” 

The detective and the blond were exiting the house as quickly as possible. Sherlock was already hailing a taxi for him and John. 

“Nice meeting you Doctor Watson! Keep your boyfriend in check!” Sally shouted at John. 

John was about to disagree with the Sergeant when he felt Sherlock pulling him into the taxi. 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
John was sitting on his armchair as he stared at the detective across from him, currently Sherlock was staring at the pink suitcase that they both found in Lauriston Gardens, which belonged to Jennifer Wilson. “So, we have the case, what do we do now?” 

Sherlock took in John’s inquiry but ignored it. “Can you send a text for me?” 

John took out his phone. “Sure.” 

Sherlock passed the blond a piece of paper, “There’s the number.” 

John punched in the numbers into his phone, “Alright, what’s the message?” 

“Type in these words exactly: What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.” Impatiently, Sherlock asked, “Have you sent it? Is it sent? Are you already sending it?” 

John annoyingly looked up at him. “ _Hold on_.” He finished typing in the message and triumphantly held up his phone. “ _There. It’s sent_.” 

Sherlock was pleased and continued staring at the pink case. “Now, look. We both know that this is Jennifer Wilson’s case. Do you see what’s missing?” 

The blond looked at the case and remembered all the information collected at the crime scene and the only logically answer would be, “Her phone?” 

“Exactly! Wow, you’re not just an average idiot. You’re a clever idiot! Anyways, yes, there was no phone on the body and no phone in the case. We know she had one — that’s her number; you just texted.” 

John was perplexed by the last comment. “What?” 

“Now, the question is, where is her phone now?” 

The blond slowly brought the pieces of the puzzle together, “The murderer… you think the murderer has the phone?” 

Sherlock innocently looked up at John and smiled widely. 

“Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?” John was interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing. 

John stared at the phone and then looked at Sherlock. The detective smiled as he saw the phone ringing. “A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer…” Sherlock paused dramatically until the phone stopped ringing. “… would panic.” He closed the lid to the suitcase and walked across the room to retrieve his coat. 

“Aren’t you going to tell the police?” John pondered. 

“Four people are dead. There isn’t time to tell the police.” 

“So, what do we do?” 

Sherlock looked at the mantelpiece and noticed something was missing. “Mrs. Hudson took my skull.” 

John looked at the empty space. “Am I basically filling in for your skull?” 

The detective buttoned up his coat, “Relax, you’re doing fine. Fancy a walk?” 

The blond shrugged his shoulders, “Sure.” 

Sherlock and John exited the flat and began to walk down the street. “Where are we going?” 

The detective pointed ahead, “Northumberland Street’s a five-minute walk from here.” 

“You think he’s stupid enough to go there?” 

Sherlock smiled, “No — I think he’s brilliant enough. I love brilliant ones. They’re always so desperate to get caught.” 

“Why?” 

“Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That’s the frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience.” 

John sassily looked at Sherlock. “Obviously.” 

“This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now, that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go.” Sherlock touched his temples and tried to find an answer. “Think! Who do we trust, even though we don’t know them?” He was cut off by John. 

The blond finished his train of thought. “Who passes unnoticed wherever you go? Who basically hunts, in the middle of a crowd? Who can do that?” 

Sherlock couldn’t help but stop and let himself be amazed by John’s intelligence and how quickly the blond seemed to grasp things. “I haven’t the faintest idea. Hungry?” 

Sherlock led John into a small restaurant, they entered the restaurant and a waiter named Billy, led to two to a table while the detective thanked him. John sat down with his back to the window while Sherlock sat on the adjacent side, planting his eyes on the window. 

The owner of the restaurant came over and smiled happily at the detective. “Sherlock.” 

They shook hands, while Sherlock introduced the man to John. “This is Angelo. Really old friend.” 

Angelo shook John’s hand and handed the blond and Sherlock a menu. “Anything on the menu, whatever you want, it’s free. On the house, for you and your date.” 

Sherlock faced John. “Do you want to eat?” 

The blond faced Angelo trying to explain that he wasn’t Sherlock’s date but the man misinterpreted John’s hand gestures. “Oh, no worries. Order anything you like, don’t worry.” Angelo faced Sherlock. “He’s a bit quiet but I like him. Good job, Sherlock.” 

John was still trying to do his best to make Angelo understand that he wasn’t Sherlock’s date but John failed again, god how he hated that he couldn’t physically speak. 

Angelo came closer to John. “Don’t fret, I’ll get candles for the table. It’s more romantic.” 

John watched the man walk away as Sherlock spoke. “You may as well eat. We might have a long wait.” 

Angelo came to their table with a small glass bowl containing a candle surrounded by rose petals and placed it in the middle of table. He gave John a thumbs up as he walked away to quickly retrieve a plate filled with salted caramel cheesecake bars. Angelo smiled excitedly and made kissy noises while pointing at Sherlock and John. The blond falsely smiled and sent a wink towards Angelo while mouthing a silent ‘thank you.’ Angelo smiled merrily and left the two men alone. 

John looked at the dessert in front of him and couldn’t help but take a bar and savor its taste. While the blond was enjoying the sweets, Sherlock was still looking out at the window as he quietly drummed his fingers on the table. 

John couldn’t help but ask, “Do I look like your date?” 

Sherlock caught John signaling something to him but he didn’t quite catch what he was saying. “I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing. Try these.” 

The detective eyed the bar, “Not hungry.” 

John picked up a bar and gave it to Sherlock. “Try it.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and studied the bar and tried it, he was surprised that the bar was… delicious. “It’s really good.” 

John agreed and continued eating the remaining bars but was startled to see the detective stuffing the entire bar into his mouth. Sherlock elegantly downed the bar and returned his gaze towards the window. The blond noticed a string of caramel clinging onto the detective’s chin and he tried to capture Sherlock’s attention but the detective had his vision glued to the window. John exhaled loudly and grabbed a napkin and quickly dipped it into a glass of water. Sherlock was so concentrated on the window, nothing could capture his attention, until he felt someone cleaning his chin. The detective didn’t move a muscle but his eyes shifted to see John wiping something off his chin. 

The blond awkwardly made eye contact with Sherlock and he quickly went to explaining what was happening. “You had caramel on you.” John folded the napkin and placed it to the side and clumsily reached for another bar. 

“Thank you.” Sherlock returned his gaze to the window but his eyes always seemed to travel towards John’s direction. 

John tried his best to not meet Sherlock’s gaze but his eyes met with Angelo’s across the restaurant. Angelo was behind the bar and he made a heart shape with his hands and blew kisses to John and Sherlock. John couldn’t help but smile in embarrassment and instead, he faced the detective, but he was met with starry blue eyes observing him. When their eyes met, Sherlock quickly broke the contact and resumed to staring at the window. 

John needed to start a conversation, “ _So_.” Sherlock faced him. “ _Do you have a girlfriend?_ ” 

Sherlock looked at the window again. “Girlfriend? No, not really my area.” 

The blond nodded but then he realized that maybe Sherlock liked men. “ _Oh, right. Do you have a boyfriend?_ ” Through the detective’s peripheral vision, he understood John’s question and sharply faced him. “ _Which is fine, by the way_.” John reassured him. 

“I know it’s fine.” 

John smiled childishly at Sherlock’s reaction to the question. “So, you have a boyfriend?” 

“No.” 

The blond kept smiling. “Right. Okay. You’re unattached. Like me.” He looked down at the plate in front of him and ate the last bar. 

Sherlock suspiciously eyed John for a moment before returning his attention to the window. Then he replayed the conversation in his head again and he faced John, in pure shock. He came closer to John and spoke awkwardly, “John, um… I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest, I’m really not looking for any…” 

John interrupted him. “ _No_.” He chewed the last bit of his bar. “ _No. I’m not asking. No_.” The blond looked into Sherlock’s eyes. “ _I’m just saying, it’s all fine_.” 

Sherlock considered the words for a moment and then nodded. “Good. Thank you. But to clear the air, I tend to prefer men more than women.” 

John took in the statement and offered a small smile. “Me too.” 

They both remained uncomfortably silent until Sherlock faced the window again, “Look across the street. Taxi.” 

The blond twisted in his seat to see a taxi parked ahead. Sherlock noticed a passenger in the taxi. “It stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out.” The detective continued staring, “Why a taxi? Oh, that’s clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?” 

“That’s him?” 

“Don’t stare.” 

John looked back at Sherlock. “You’re staring.” 

“We both can’t stare.” 

The blond rolled his eyes and began to stand up. “Come on, we can’t be here like a bunch of sitting ducks.” 

John exited the restaurant as Sherlock followed him, the detective shrugged on his coat while his eyes were fixed on the taxi. The taxi lingered for a bit and then it began to pull away. Sherlock immediately started running towards the taxi, trying to catch up to the vehicle, while John ran behind him. John chased after the detective, adrenaline pumping through his body as a burst of excitement exploded inside him. They ran for a few yards until Sherlock halted, realizing they won’t reach the taxi in time to catch the killer. 

“We need a faster route!” Sherlock angrily shouted. The detective raised his hands to either side of his head and concentrated on finding the the map of the local area in his head, to quickly calculate the faster route. 

John looked at the detective and looked at the building ahead, if he calculated this correctly, they should come upon the taxi by taking this route. The blond smiled excitedly and pulled the detective from his thoughts. 

Sherlock was close to finding the fastest route when he felt John tugging his coat. He annoyingly faced the blonde, “What!” 

“This way!” The blond ran towards a building, accidentally pushing a man to the side, while Sherlock hurried after John and raised an apologetic hand to the man who John shoved to the side. 

They both raced up a few stairs when John ran to the edge of the building to see a spiral staircase, he looked behind to see if Sherlock was behind him. Once, he saw Sherlock in view, he rushed down the stairs, with the detective right on his tail. John used every strength he had in his legs and gained enough speed to jump from one building to another. Sherlock with no trouble jumped the gap and a quick thought went through his head, how does John know this route? He’s honestly full of surprises. 

They continued running on the roofs of every building in their path, John saw another gap ahead, but it was much bigger than the last one. With no fear, he leapt across the gap and landed perfectly well, while Sherlock simply jumped across the gap with no trouble at all. 

John then dropped down to a walkway that was located on the side of the building, with Sherlock behind him, they ran down another set of stairs and ended up in an alleyway. Sherlock surpassed John and pulled up his mental map again and was pleased to see that the blond knew where he was going. If they calculated this accurately, they should come upon the taxi at the end of the alley but the taxi passed them. 

The detective angrily groaned, “Ah, no!” He continued running, reaching the end of the alley and hastily he turned right. “This way!” 

John went the wrong direction which caused Sherlock to shout, “No, this way!” 

The blond started to make his way to the right, they raced down the street, taking a shorter route in order to intercept the taxi. Sherlock pushed his long legs to run a bit faster, with the new energy flowing through his body, he ran in the middle of the road, hurling himself into the path of the approaching cab. The taxi halted abruptly, and Sherlock quickly pulled out an ID badge and flashed it to the driver. 

He ran to the right side of the cab and opened the door. “Police! Open her up!” Sherlock was panting heavily as the passenger looked completely confused. The detective huffed in annoyance as John managed to reach his side. “No.” He looked at the passenger again. “Teeth, tan: what — Californian?” Sherlock looked at the luggage on the floor. “L.A. Santa Monica. Just arrived.” He faced John in disappointment. 

“How could you possibly know that?” John questioned. 

“Luggage.” He faced the man one more time. “Well, welcome to London. John, let’s go.” Sherlock closed the door and the taxi pulled away. 

John was panting, “Well, he’s not the murderer.” 

“Nope.” Sherlock kept switching the ID badge from one hand to another. 

The blond was curious as to how the detective acquired that ID. “ _Hey, where did you get this?_ ” John reached towards the card in Sherlock’s hand, and the detective gave it to him. “ _Right. Detective Inspector Lestrade_.” 

“Yeah. I pickpocket him when he’s annoying. You can keep that one. I’ve got plenty at the flat.” 

John looked down at the card and began to giggle. Sherlock faced him in confusion, “What?” 

“Nothing, just: Welcome to London.” 

Sherlock chuckled and looked down the street. “Got your breath back?” 

“Ready when you are.” 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
Sherlock and John arrived at 221B, they both entered the building and leaned against the wall while catching their breath and removing their coats. 

“That was ridiculous but amazing.” 

Sherlock snorted, “It honestly was.” He faced the blond, “How did you know about the route through the buildings?” 

John smiled, “When you were thinking, I simply looked at the buildings ahead and already knowing how they are lined up, I figured that if we just followed the buildings, we’d simply catch the taxi in time.” 

The detective simply stared at the blond, fascinated by John’s intelligence. He was happy to have rudely insulted this man and apologized afterwards, for now they can become closer. “Would you like to live with me?” Sherlock noticed that John didn’t say anything, so he continued talking. “As I said before, finding a flatmate is quite difficult and I feel like we both get along quite nicely. Plus, we can split the rent and you won’t have to worry about getting too many shifts in order pay the rent for your flat.” 

John took in the proposition. “Let me think about it.” 

Sherlock smiled knowing that eventually John would say yes. Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat. “Sherlock, what have you done?” 

“Mrs. Hudson?” 

“Upstairs.” 

The detective rushed up the stairs, John following behind him. Sherlock entered his flat and was met with the sight of Lestrade sitting in an armchair, while other officers were going through his possessions. 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked angrily. 

The D.I. faced John. “Hello John. Oh, Sherlock well, I knew you’d find the case. I not stupid.” 

“You can’t break into my flat.” 

Lestrade rolled his eyes at the detective. “And you can’t withhold evidence. And technically, I didn’t break into your flat.” 

“Well, what do you call this then?” Sherlock questioned impatiently. 

Lestrade looked around the flat and smiled innocently. “It’s a drugs bust.” 

The D.I. noticed John’s surprised reaction which caused Sherlock to turn around and face him. Shit. Him and John were getting along so well, and now with this little secret being revealed, things wouldn’t turn out well. 

“You do drugs? Really?” John curiously wondered. 

Sherlock walked up to John and stared into his eyes and held his gaze on the blond for a long moment. 

“Oh my, you do.” 

“Shut up!” Sherlock broke his eye contact with John and faced Lestrade. “I’m not your sniffer dog.” 

“True.” The D.I. pointed towards the kitchen. “Anderson’s my sniffer dog.” 

The detective faced the kitchen and saw Anderson. “Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?” 

“Oh, I volunteered.” Anderson noticed John. “Hey cutie.” 

John gave him a tight smile while Sherlock glared at the man in hatred. Lestrade broke Sherlock’s concentration on Anderson. “You know, you could help us properly and I’ll stand them down.” 

“This is childish.” Sherlock scoffed. 

“Well, I’m dealing with a freaking child. Sherlock, this our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?” Lestrade eyed the detective. 

Sherlock glared at the D.I. “Crystal clear but do you have to set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me? Is it fun to come here and mess up my flat?” 

“Actually, I’m not the only one enjoying this.” Lestrade pointed to the window. “Look outside the window.” 

In confusion, Sherlock headed towards the window and saw a CCTV camera moving from side to side. The detective flipped off the camera as Lestrade laughed at the man’s reaction. “What does my brother see in you? I do not know. But apparently, you two were made for each other.” Sherlock looked around his flat. “I am clean!” 

“Are we sure? Is your whole flat clean?” Lestrade questioned. 

“I don’t even smoke.” Sherlock lifted his sleeve to show a nicotine patch on his lower arm to Lestrade. 

The D.I. lifted his sleeve as well to show Sherlock his nicotine patch. “Neither do I. Besides, My hates it when I smoke.” 

Sherlock grimaced at the nickname Lestrade gave Mycroft. “So, let’s work together.” The D.I. fixed his sleeve. “We’ve found Rachel.” 

The detective faced Lestrade. “Who is she?” 

“Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter.” 

Sherlock frowned. “Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?” 

“Never mind that. We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favorite psychopath.” Anderson remarked. 

Sherlock faced Anderson. “Oh, shut up, Anderson! I’m not a psychopath. I’m a high functioning sociopath. Do your research.” He faced Lestrade. “You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her I need to question her.” 

“She’s dead.” Lestrade offered. 

“Excellent!” John was startled at the detective’s reaction. “How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be.” 

“I doubt it. She’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago.” 

Sherlock took in Lestrade’s words and was perplexed. “No, that’s… that’s not right. How… why would she do that? Why? She couldn’t have been thinking about her daughter in her last moments of life. She scratched her daughter’s name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt.” 

“You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he… I don’t know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow.” 

Sherlock thought about John’s input. “Yeah but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?” 

John stared at the detective in shock, and on cue, everyone else in the flat remained silent and stared at Sherlock. The detective looked around the room and awkwardly made his way towards the blond. “Not good?” 

John glanced around the room and settled his eyes on Sherlock. “Bit not good, yeah.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and came a bit closer to John. “Yeah, but if you were dying… if you’d been murdered, in your very last few seconds what would you say?” 

John thought for a second. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been murdered before.” 

The detective huffed in exasperation. “Oh, use your imagination!” 

“I don’t know. I guess I would think about the moments I regret the most and how I could have corrected those moments earlier my life.” 

Sherlock was not expecting that answer and for a second, he found that quite… sentimental? “Oh, you’re too romantic.” He paced the room. “Jennifer Wilson is trying to tell us something.” 

Mrs. Hudson entered the flat, “Oh dear. They’re making such a mess. What are they looking for?” 

“It’s a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson.” John approached the older woman. 

Mrs. Hudson anxiously turned away. “Ou, I need to hide my herbal soothers for my hip.” 

John chuckled at the older woman’s comment when Sherlock shouted. “Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off.” 

“What? My face is?!” 

Lestrade faced Anderson. “Shut up, Anderson! Turn your back!” 

Sherlock began to talk to himself. “Come on, think. Quick!” 

Mrs Hudson came back to the flat again. “Sherlock, what about your taxi?” 

The detective whipped around and shouted at the older lady. “MRS HUDSON!” 

The older woman threw a pillow at Sherlock’s face and walked down the stairs. 

The hit to Sherlock’s face made him realize something. “Oh.” He smiled. “Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!” Sherlock faced everyone. “She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him.” He started pacing again. “When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left her phone in order to lead us to her killer.” 

“But how?” Lestrade questioned. 

Sherlock stared at him, completely dumbfounded. “What? What do you mean, how?” Lestrade shrugged. “Rachel!” Sherlock looked at John in triumph, but John wasn’t understanding anything. “Don’t you see? Rachel.” Everyone looked at him blankly and the detective began to laugh at the idiots surrounding him. “Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. Rachel is not a name.” 

John lifted himself from his seat and headed downstairs. Sherlock was confused as to why the blond was leaving. “John, where are you going! Didn’t you want to know what Rachel is?!” 

“What is it?” Lestrade wondered. 

“Lestrade, on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address.” 

The D.I. read the label on the suitcase, “Jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk.” 

Sherlock sat down and opened his computer notebook. “Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it’s a smartphone, it’s email enabled.” He pulled up the Mephone’s website. “So, there was a website for her account. The username is her email address…” The detective typed in the email address. “… and all together now, the password is?” 

John appeared behind Sherlock. “Rachel.” He handed Greg a biscuit and happily munched on his own biscuit. 

“Thanks mate.” Greg happily took the biscuit and enjoyed its tastiness. 

Sherlock looked at John. “You went to get biscuits?” 

“I was hungry.” 

The detective rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the screen in front of him. 

“So, we can read her emails. So, what?” Anderson shouted from across the room. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Anderson’s idiotic remark. “Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do more than just read her emails. It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her.” The detective looked at the screen impatiently. “Come on, come on. Quickly!” 

Mrs. Hudson appeared at the doorway again. “Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver…” 

Sherlock got up from his seat and walked towards her. “Mrs. Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?” 

John took the unoccupied seat and watched the clock spinning on the website until it displayed a map, showing where the phone is located. “ _Sherlock_.” The detective was speaking to Lestrade, telling him to bring cars, helicopters in order to capture the murderer. “ _Sherlock_.” 

“It’s our first proper lead!” Sherlock gushed excitedly. 

The blond grew impatient and grabbed a pillow and threw it at the back of Sherlock’s head. The detective faced John. “What?” 

John motioned for Sherlock to come closer. “Where is it?” Sherlock questioned as he rushed over to the blond, looming over him to see the screen. For a split second, the detective took a whiff of John’s cologne lingering on the man’s jumper and he seemed to enjoy the smell. 

“It’s here. It’s in 221 Baker Street.” 

Sherlock straightened himself up, “How can it be here? How?” 

“Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell somewhere.” Lestrade offered. 

“What, and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice?” Sherlock looked at John. “That’s impossible, John sent a text message to the phone and he called back.” 

The D.I. faced his team. “Guys, we’re also looking for a mobile somewhere here…” 

Sherlock tuned out the sound of every person in the flat and went over the facts of every murder before Jennifer Wilson’s and in a matter of seconds, the pieces to the puzzle fitted together. The taxi driver. 

The taxi driver took out a pink smartphone from his pocket and sent Sherlock a text. A moment later, the detective’s phone chimed and Sherlock read the message: **come with me**. 

Sherlock faced the door and saw the taxi driver heading down the stairs. 

John tugged on Sherlock’s sleeve. “Sherlock, are you okay?” 

The detective faced the blond. “What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” 

“So, how can the phone be here?” 

Sherlock blankly stared at John. “Dunno.” He started heading towards the door. 

“Where are you going?” Lestrade called out. 

“Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long.” 

John frowned at Sherlock’s response. 

“You sure you’re all right?” The D.I. questioned again. 

Sherlock hurried down the stairs. “I’m fine.” 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
The detective faced the murderer outside, the man, Jeff, exchanged a few words with Sherlock before entering his taxi, causing the detective to follow behind, joining the man in the taxi. 

Lestrade watched Sherlock leaving in the vehicle, which caused him to announce that their business here at 221B was a waste of time and they should leave. The D.I. bid John farewell and in an instance, Lestrade’s men were gone, leaving the blond alone. 

John looked at the screen of the computer notebook and it showed the clock spinning again, which meant that the killer was moving. The blond figured, once the clock stopped spinning, he’ll see where the murderer is and he’ll probably find Sherlock. He went to grab his leather jacket when he wondered how he would arrive at the location where Sherlock would be, the complication of having a rude taxi driver was not a situation John fancied. 

The blond was reaching for his jacket when he saw a drawer slightly opened, his curiosity got the better of him and he opened the drawer, revealing a gun. John checked if it was loaded and he figured that he might need the weapon. The blond tucked the gun behind him and slipped on his jacket when the clock stopped, exposing the location of where the killer was. He checked the location and immediately knew where this was, now, he just needed a car to get there. 

John went down to Mrs. Hudson’s flat and knocked on her door. The older woman opened the door, “Oh, John. What do you need love?” 

“Do you have a car I could borrow quickly?” 

“Yes, I actually I have an Aston Martin parked in the back. Why do you need a car?” The older lady wondered. 

“I think Sherlock might need help.” 

Mrs. Hudson rushed inside her flat and came back with the car keys in her hand. “Go save your man dearie.” 

John shook his head, “Where’s the car?” 

“It’s in the garage, all the way in the back. Here’s the remote to open the garage door.” 

The blond swiftly rushed to the garage, he pressed a button on the remote and the door lifted up, exposing a red Aston Martin, _shit. Cool_. John entered the vehicle and couldn’t help but feel extremely pompous and cocky in this car. He continued marveling the interior of the car when he noticed the bright screen staring at him, _oh right_. 

John brought the engine to life and drove out of the garage, heading to Roland-Kerr Further Education College. 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
The blond parked the car in front of the college, seeing the taxi car parked as well. He looked at the two identical buildings, John looked back at the screen again, and huffed in annoyance when he realized there wasn’t a specific location showing where the phone was. The blond held the gun in his hands and chose a building. 

Sherlock was inches away from taking the pill, when John busted into the room, not hesitating to shoot the killer, pulling the trigger and letting a bullet fly towards the man’s chest. The detective was not prepared for the sudden outburst, but he quickly threw the pill to the floor and loomed over the dying man. 

John was at Sherlock’s side, pointing the gun at the man. 

“Was I right? I was, wasn’t I? Did I get it right?” Sherlock asked. 

Jeff didn’t answer. 

Since the man wasn’t answering, the detective continued talking. “Okay, tell me this, your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me — my fan. I want a name.” 

“No.” Jeff croaked out. 

“Your dying, but there’s still time to hurt you. Give me a name.” Sherlock ordered. 

Jeff shook his head, to speed the process, John stepped on the man’s chest. The dying man gasped in pain. 

“A name.” Sherlock asked in irritation. John put more pressure on the wound which caused the man to yelp in horrible pain. “The name!” The detective asked furiously. 

“Moriarty!” 

Once he said the name, John removed his foot and instantly, the man died. The blond looked at Sherlock, as the detective ran the name through his head. 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
Both John and Sherlock were sitting in an ambulance getting checked over. They gave John an orange colored shock blanket while Lestrade questioned them both, but mostly pressured the detective to give as much information as possible. “Who shot him?” 

Sherlock shrugged. “I honestly have no idea.” 

The D.I. was confused. “You know everything, how can you not know?” 

“Maybe he’s in shock.” John offered. 

The detective agreed with the blond. “He’s right Lestrade.” 

Lestrade felt so terrible that he couldn’t understand John. “What did he say?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “He said I could be in shock.” 

John nodded and hugged Sherlock, sharing his blanket with the detective. Sherlock was shocked by the action and wasn’t sure how to react, so he looked at Lestrade. “See.” 

The D.I. couldn’t help but think how cute they both looked. John wrapping the blanket around Sherlock’s shoulders and basically hugging the man. The detective couldn’t deny how nice it felt to have John’s warmth around him, he felt the urge to wrap his arm around the blond’s waist but he ignored that irrational thought and tried to look as innocent as possible. 

Lestrade wanted to say something when he felt familiar arms wrapping around his waist and a warm kiss being delivered to the nape of his neck. The D.I. smiled, “Hello My.” 

“Hello, my sweet Gregory.” 

Sherlock made a disgusted face, he wasn’t used to seeing Mycroft’s soft side. Mycroft stood up straight and pinched Greg’s butt, then faced his younger brother. 

Lestrade slapped Mycroft’s arm for pinching his bum. “I’ll be right back.” The D.I. smiled and smacked Mycroft’s bottom as he walked away with a proud smirk. 

“Well, is this the boyfriend? John Hamish Watson. It seems you two are very comfortable.” Mycroft lifted his eyebrow. 

John looked at their closeness and embarrassingly released Sherlock. John had questions but he was quite hesitant to ask them. 

Mycroft quickly deduced John’s impatience to ask questions. “Please John. You can speak. I know sign language.” 

“Who are you?” 

The elder brother smiled. “I see I’ve been talked about.” He extended his hand. “I’m Mycroft Holmes.” 

The blond shook his hand and looked between Sherlock and Mycroft. “Are you two brothers?” 

“Yes.” Mycroft responded quickly. 

“Tragically.” Sherlock faced his brother. 

John obviously saw that the detective hated his brother. “That’s nice. Oh, by the way, I’m not his boyfriend.” 

“Oh, John. Don’t deny your relationship with my brother. Know that the more you deny your relationship with him, the more you’ll hurt Sherlock’s feelings.” Mycroft reassured John. 

The blond wanted to fall back and hide himself in this blanket. Why doesn’t anyone believe him?! Is it that difficult to believe that he isn’t this man’s boyfriend? 

Sherlock got up. “Well, dear brother, thank you for appearing but we really must be going. John, come along.” 

Mycroft held the detective back. “We need to talk.” 

Sherlock shrugged him off. “No. You need Lestrade in your car in order to enjoy a quick shaggging. I don’t want to talk. I’m in shock. Right John.” 

The blond got up wrapping the blanket around the detective. “He’s in shock.” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I’ll speak with you later about this.” He gestured between John and Sherlock. 

“Of course.” The detective falsely smiled. 

John saw Lestrade coming towards them and handed the blanket to the D.I. “We gotta go.” The blond pulled Sherlock. 

“Laterz.” Sherlock waved the couple goodbye. 

John and Sherlock calmly walked towards Mrs. Hudson’s car. 

“What’s wrong love?” Lestrade asked. 

“How well do you know John?” 

The D.I. faced the shorter man. “He’s a good man. I think he’ll be good for Sherlock.” Lestrade stood in front of Mycroft and pulled the taller man closer to him. “Give him a chance. You might grow to like him. I know I do.” 

The elder Homes faced Lestrade. “Gregory, are you replacing me with another man?” 

The D.I. leaned up and sweetly kissed Mycroft. “You’re the only man in my life.” 

Mycroft cupped the man’s face. “I’m pleased to hear that Gregory.” He kissed Lestrade. 

The D.I. shifted his hands lower and grabbed Mycroft’s hardening shaft. The elder Holmes groaned into the kiss, as Lestrade bit down on the man’s lower lip. “I was promised to ride this cock in your car.” 

Mycroft grinned mischievously, “You were promised that, weren’t you?” He pecked the D.I.’s lips. “Get in the car and remove all your clothes.” 

Lestrade cheekily licked Mycroft’s lips, “You got it love.” 

Mycroft sneakily squeezed Greg’s bottom and winked at him. He lovingly watched the D.I. walk away, then he returned his gaze to his younger brother, hoping that John Hamish Watson would be good for Sherlock. 

  
  
()()()()()() 

  
  
“Thank you.” 

John faced the detective, “For what?” 

“Coming in time.” Sherlock smiled. 

John returned the smile. “No problem.” 

They continued walking towards the red Aston Martin. Sherlock was confused. “Is this yours?” 

The blond haughtily leaned against the car. “Yup.” 

The detective was wondering how he could have missed this small detail about John. “Really?” 

“No, just kidding. It’s Mrs. Hudson’s.” 

Sherlock chuckled. “I knew she had a car hidden somewhere.” 

John went to the driver’s seat. “Get in.” 

The detective entered the car and couldn’t help but gawk at the interior of the vehicle. “It’s very nice.” 

“ _Right_.” John quickly reached behind him and handed Sherlock’s gun. “ _I believe this is yours_.” 

Sherlock reached for the gun. “Thank you. Though I think it would benefit you more. I have more at the flat. Keep it.” 

The blond was hesitant to accept the gun but he happily took the gun back and stuffed it in the glove compartment. “Thanks.” 

“John. Before we go, can you answer one question for me?” 

John rested his hands on the steering wheel. “Sure.” 

Sherlock faced the blond. “Will you come live with me? I mean, I would like to have your company when I’m visiting crime scenes. What do you say?” 

The blond thought about the question and realized that he felt happy when he was with Sherlock, and perhaps, he needed a change in his life. “Alright.” 

The detective nodded at John’s answer but deep down inside, he was jumping with joy. “Shall we go home?” 

John turned on the engine. “Lets.” 

“Can you drive this car really fast?” Sherlock wondered. 

The blond smirked. “Wanna see?” John didn’t wait for Sherlock to answer, instead, he pressed on the gas and zoomed out of the crime scene as he coolly merged onto the road, while surpassing the speed limit. 

Sherlock was surprised by John’s skills but god, did he see great things for him and his doctor, a whole new life waiting for them, and the detective was absolutely ready for this new change. 

At least, he thought he was.


	4. Blame The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely readers! How are you all doing? Well, my semester finished and I’m free to chill and live but most of all, be fucking lazy in bed while writing hehe. So, to those who are following my other works, expect updates for the rest of this month before i go back to school. 
> 
> Anyways, ignore my ramblings and enjoy this chapter! 
> 
> Also, remeber, John’s dialogue is italicized because he’s mute.

Life at 221B Baker Street was moving along just fine. Sherlock enthusiastically delved into cases provided by Lestrade, happily arriving at the crime scene with his trusted right hand, John Watson. After cases and cases, the blond became confident around the detective and John began to offer his opinions freely whenever it related to a case. 

But the blond couldn’t go running around the streets of London with Sherlock for he needed to earn money in order to pay the rent. So, there were times where John couldn’t join the detective for, he had to work. Due to this, Lestrade was a victim to Sherlock’s odd mood swings and they only happened when the blond couldn’t go with the detective to a crime scene. 

Sherlock wouldn’t admit it but he missed the presence of John whenever the blond couldn’t join him. 

Other than the detective’s mood swings, John and Sherlock were happy together. The blond was very happy to live with the detective and not only has their friendship developed, they became inseparable. 

John also became good friends with Lestrade. After months of learning sign language, the D.I. finally became fluent at it, thanks to Mycroft’s tutoring and help. Now, Lestrade could have full conversations with the blond and they rather much enjoyed one’s company. Thanks to Greg, he allowed John to go inside the Yard and learn how to fight properly. 

After lessons and lessons of fighting, the blond became skilled enough to take down the D.I. 

Due to the constant training John was receiving, the blond’s body began to change, his once lean body morphed into a bundle of muscles. Even Greg noticed the big change to John’s body. 

Sherlock immediately noticed the change in the blond’s body and complimented John’s progress. The detective couldn’t help but test a theory that concerned the blond. 

So, one day, Sherlock was in the kitchen, looking through his microscope, studying the reactions between bacteria and different types of acid. 

John was showering in his room, once he was clean, he dried himself off and slipped on a pair of sweats along with fluffy black socks. The blond was shirtless, he was trying to find his comfy T-shirt but the stupid piece of clothing wasn’t showing up. He went downstairs while burying his hands in his pockets belonging to his sweats. The slight creak of the floor captured the detective’s attention and Sherlock ripped his gaze from the microscope and his eyes landed on John’s sculpted back. 

The blond looked behind the couch, under the table, rustled through a pile of clothes and nothing. 

The detective roamed his eyes over the skin provided to him. “You’re T-shirt is currently being washed by Mrs Hudson.” 

John faced Sherlock. “Of course.” 

The detective observed the blond’s chest and stood up from his seat. “I see the constant fighting lessons has improved your physique.” 

John looked down at his body. “I guess you can say that.” 

Sherlock placed his hands behind his back. “Although you’ve gained more muscle and the level of your confidence has risen. Your strength would be no match against one person who can easily defeat you.” 

The blond straightened himself up. “Who?” 

“Me.” 

John snorted. “I highly doubt that.” 

The detective stepped closer to the blond. “Are you afraid to admit that you’ll lose against me?” 

John licked his lips. “Is that a challenge?” 

Sherlock smirked. “There’s no need to demonstrate. Clearly my taller height is an advantage to your shorter stature. And I can predict all your movements which makes it impossible for you to defeat me.” The detective turned his back to the blond and walked away. “So, its fairly obvious that you’d be putty in my hands.” Sherlock turned around and as expected, John was in front of him. 

“We’ll see about that.” 

The blond threw a punch towards the detective’s face but Sherlock blocked the punch by holding onto John’s arm and twisting the blond around. John’s back met with the detective’s chest and Sherlock was about to place the blond in a headlock position when John placed one hand on the detective’s wrist and the other reached back, gripping Sherlock’s shoulder. With all his strength, he flipped the detective over his head and slammed him against the floor. 

A pain began to emanate from Sherlock’s head and lower back. “Jesus.” 

The blond loomed over the detective. “I thought you could beat me?” 

Sherlock wasn’t going to be defeated easily, so he rolled onto his knees and picked himself up. The two men lifted their fists, preparing to fight. The detective made the first move, lunging forward, determined to deliver a blow to John’s face but the blond blocked the attack and managed to grab Sherlock. The detective elbowed John’s ribs and successfully escaped the blond’s hold. 

Sherlock smiled as John rubbed his ribs. “Not so fast, are you?” 

The blond narrowed his eyes and pounced towards the detective. Sherlock swung his arm, intending to punch John’s face when the blond ducked the incoming punch. John came up quickly and drove his fist upwards towards the detective’s chin. The sudden blow caused Sherlock to fall back a bit and the blond took the opportunity to throw a kick towards the detective’s abdomens. Sherlock crouched forward, hugging his abdomens when he felt John jumping on his back. The blond wrapped his arms around the detective’s throat and hugged Sherlock’s abdomens with his legs. 

The detective found no alternative but to jump and fall backwards. The immediate fall crushed John, he released his grip and grit his teeth together as a sharp pain emanated from the blond’s back. 

Sherlock proudly stood up and looked down at John. “As I said, no one can defeat me.” The detective fixed his curls and straightened out his tight purple dress shirt. “You see John, I’ll always be on top.” 

John nodded. “Right.” 

Unexpectedly, the blond thrusted his leg towards Sherlock’s ankles, swiping the detective’s legs beneath him. 

Sherlock hit the ground with a loud grunt. “Ouch.” 

The two men remained on the floor for a bit when the detective spoke again. “I can still beat you.” 

John quickly straddled himself on top of Sherlock and the two men rolled around for bit, both trying to dominate one another but the blond managed to be on top. John straddled the detective’s hips and tightened his grip on Sherlock’s wrists, which were currently pinned to the floor. The detective thrashed against the blond’s hold but John simply tightened his grip. 

Sherlock huffed in defeat. “Perhaps I was mistaken. Your strength increases everyday.” 

The blond lifted his eyebrow and smiled as he released one of the detective’s wrist. “The Great Sherlock Holmes finally admits defeat.” 

Sherlock snorted. “No. I simply know that I’ve met my match.” 

The two men chuckled for a bit and John rested his forearms at either side of the detective’s head. The blond’s soft chuckles died down and John studied the man beneath him. The blond noticed the ever-changing eyes that belonged to Sherlock, the dark curls that contrasted with his pale skin, and the full lips that complimented his mouth. John found the detective well… beautiful. 

Sherlock was studying the blond as well, he noticed how John had warm eyes and a eulogistic smile that suited his face. The detective calculated every detail pertaining to the blond and Sherlock was bold enough to admit to himself that his flatmate was… what was the word? Attractive. 

John leaned down, coming closer to the detective’s face, his thumb grazed across Sherlock’s high cheekbone. The sudden touch caused the detective to rest his hands on the blond’s exposed biceps. His nimble fingers made small circles over the muscles that were currently forming. Sherlock lifted one hand towards John’s wrist and placed two fingers over the blond’s pulse. John rested his nose on the detective’s and to Sherlock’s surprise, he didn’t stop the blond from what he was about to do. 

“Dearies, you both honestly need to wash your own clothes!” The landlady entered the flat upstairs and gasped in shock. “Oh, my goodness! I saw nothing! At least warn me when you’re about about to have sex.” 

Mrs Hudson left with a basket of clean clothes in her hands and the two men remained on the floor. 

John returned his gaze to the detective and smiled uncertainly. “I’m going upstairs to change and go for a walk.” 

Sherlock simply nodded as he remained unmoved when the blond lifted himself. John left the detective on the floor as he went upstairs towards his room. He closed the door behind him and pressed his back against the wooden door as he softly thudded the back of his head against the door. The blond didn’t know what came over him, he couldn’t explain what the bloody hell just happened. He’s never felt this emotion towards someone, it was odd. John smacked his palm against his forehead, great now things will get awkward between us. The blond ruffled through his closet, putting together an outfit for he needed to get fresh air in order to clear his mind. 

Sherlock remained on the floor and kept replaying the scene that just took place in his head. The detective had no experience with this feeling, was it sentiment? The word tasted like vinegar in his mouth, he never cared for such things. 

Sentiment, how dull and boring. 

Sherlock was in deep thought that he barely missed Mrs Hudson coming back and leaving the basket of clean clothes on an armchair. The detective shook his head and picked himself up, he walked towards the kitchen and decided to continue his experiments. 

John came downstairs, all dressed and noticed Sherlock in the kitchen. 

The detective faced the blond. “Enjoy your walk.” 

John offered a tight smile. “Enjoy your experiment.” 

Awkwardly, the blond left, leaving Sherlock puzzled. John closed the front door behind him and decided to walk around the park for a bit. 

The detective watched the blond walk away from the window and as he observed John’s retreating form, he placed his hands behind his back and said. “Hm.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
“Dear brother, how nice it is to see you.” 

Sherlock didn’t remove his sight from the microscope. “What do you want Mycroft?” 

“Is that anyway to greet your older brother?” 

“How’s the diet fatty?” 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes and slowly approached his baby brother. “How are you and Mr Watson doing?” 

The detective still didn’t look at his older brother. “What’s it to you?” 

“Are you both a couple or not?” 

Sherlock smirked at detecting the tiny hint of irritation embedded in Mycroft’s voice. “Again, what’s it to you?” 

“Then how do you explain.” The older man threw a file on the detective’s table. “This.” 

Sherlock eyed the folder. “What is that?” 

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Let your curiosity spark. Open it.” 

The detective huffed in annoyance and retrieved the folder. He opened it and his eyes were exposed to a set of photographs. They all consisted of John being on top of him and their faces being terribly close to each other. Sherlock looked through the photographs and couldn’t exactly explain what he was feeling. 

Mycroft tried to deduce the detective’s feelings but as always, Sherlock was emotionless. “What’s going on, Sherlock?” 

The detective placed the photos down and went to sit in his armchair. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Mycroft took a seat across from Sherlock. “Are we becoming soft?” 

“No.” 

“Then explain to me, what is happening in these photographs?” 

The detective shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing was happening.” 

“Really? A grown man on top of you and nothing was happening?” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Why are you so concerned about this?” 

“Because I worry.” 

“And what are you worried about?” 

Mycroft smiled. “Can you not deduce?” 

The detective snorted. “If you’re concerned about me having feelings for my flatmate, you are mistaken. I feel nothing for him, just mutual respect.” 

Mycroft tapped the handle of his umbrella. “Sherlock, even you are a terrible liar. I must admit, in the beginning I didn’t understand the interest you took upon John Watson. I thought he was too simple for you. But then, when I briefly met him, I realized that he’s not excessively terrible. And judging by Gregory’s positive comments on the man, I approve of the idea of you and him becoming more than just flatmates and friends.” 

“That would be the first.” 

“Sherlock.” Mycroft crossed his legs. “I know that we both thought that we didn’t need companionship or partners to keep us happy. I was wrong about that, since I met Gregory, things have rippled out nicely. It may not show but I am happy with him. What I’m concerned about is how you’ll react when you reciprocate the same emotions of… sentiment towards John.” 

Sherlock remained emotionless. “If you think I’m lonely, I’m not. And the idea of liking someone is boring. The notion of being with someone is terribly boring. And even if I did like John in that way, it would never work.” 

“And why is that?” 

The detective swallowed his saliva. “He’s too ordinary. And being with someone means that you’ll put them in danger. I don’t have time to save those who are dear to me when there’s a bigger problem waiting to be solved.” 

Mycroft stared at his brother, not believing any word. He got up from his seat, “May I give you a piece of advice?” 

“No.” 

“Do you know why the human race is weak? It is because of sentiment and for that, we must blame the heart. If it wasn’t for the heart, we wouldn’t care about anything but since we do have it, we are susceptible to feeling emotions.” 

Sherlock waved his hand in boredom. “What’s your point?” 

“Because our hearts are capable of sentiment, we are vulnerable to weaknesses. All that I’m saying is that having a weakness is not bad. Weaknesses are subtle reminders of those we allowed to become important to us. It reminds us that we have opened ourselves to those we love. If John is your weakness, then don’t be afraid to embrace that.” 

The detective snorted. “Since when did you become a poet?” 

Mycroft smiled. “Since I met Gregory.” The older man began to walk away. “Till then little brother.” 

“Mycroft.” 

“What?” 

Sherlock faced his brother. “If you think I’m willing to let myself be weak, you are mistaken. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.” 

Mycroft shook his head. “Then keep thinking that Sherlock.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John was returning from his walk when he met Mycroft at the front door. 

“Hello Mr. Watson. How was your walk at the park?” 

The blond looked at himself. “Did you know that or did you deduce that?” 

Mycroft pointed at John’s shoes. “Your shoes told me. Grass stains are evident.” 

“Right. Leaving so soon?” 

“Yes. My business here is done.” 

The blond didn’t get to know Mycroft well but from what Lestrade tells him, Mycroft is nice if you use the right buttons and it’d be good to have an ally around. “Are you hungry?” 

“Food is a distraction and useless.” 

“So, you wouldn’t join me to eat a few sweets?” 

Mycroft tightened his grip on his umbrella, he fucking loved sweets but his physical form was prone to gaining more weight if he indulged himself in sweets. “Is this some sort of a bribery?” 

John made a confused face. “No. Why would you think that?” 

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. “You do know I’m in a relationship with Gregory Lestrade. I’m sorry if you’re under the impression that I’m single…” 

The blond pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why does every Holmes think I’m trying to get with them? No, I know you’re with Greg. I’m simply asking you as a friend.” 

“A friend?” 

John gave up, “Never mind. I’ll just —“ 

“There’s a bakery down the road, it has a wide selection of cakes and other sweets. I wouldn’t mind if we both went together.” 

“Really?” 

Mycroft walked towards the sleek black car ahead and opened the door. “Honestly Mr Watson I’m agreeing to spend to time with you. Let’s go.” 

“Alright.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
John and Mycroft visited the bakery together and enjoyed a few cakes while conversing with one another. They chatted comfortably and Mycroft was honestly surprised at actually finding the blond interesting and not tiresome. It surprised John when he emitted a few chuckles from the older man and the friendship between them was slowly building up. 

After they finished eating their cakes and drinking their teas, they both exited the bakery and somehow ended up in a mall shopping for clothes. Mycroft mentioned that he loved to shower Gregory with gifts and he was particularly stuck in finding clothes for the D.I. The blond helped Mycroft pick out the clothes that Lestrade liked and after two hours, they managed to put together a new wardrobe for the D.I. 

Mycroft bought a few suits for himself and urged John to pick out a few things for he’d gladly pay for it. The blond heavily insisted that he could buy his own clothes but Mycroft was very good at debating and until he wins the argument, he won’t stop talking. So, in the end, Mycroft won the argument and John got a pair of jeans, jackets, shirts, and shoes. Once they purchased everything, the blond’s eyes widened when he saw the final amount for everything and he assured Mycroft that he’ll pay him back. Mycroft simply snorted and assured him that no friend of his owes him anything. John smiled widely at the term friend being used so nicely. 

The blond made a new friend. Yay! 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Once Sherlock saw John enter the car with Mycroft, he went over the conversation he had with his brother and wondered if he was growing feelings for the blond. A buzz from his phone caught his attention and as expected, Lestrade had a new case and needed the detective’s help. Sherlock grabbed his coat and left the flat. 

The detective was studying a body while Lestrade was standing behind him. “Gavin.” 

“Greg! Its Greg!” 

Sherlock ignored the D.I.’s correction of his own name. “How did you know that Mycroft was the one for you?” 

Lestrade was taken back by the random as hell question. “Excuse me?” 

“I’m not repeating myself.” 

Greg crossed his arms across his chest. “I’m aware of that. But why are you asking that question?” 

The detective moved a bit to study the deep slashes across the victim’s belly. “Professional curiosity.” 

“Professional curiosity? What the hell are you playing at?” 

“Just answer the question.” Sherlock sharply snapped back. 

The D.I. eyed the detective in suspicion. “Well, I don’t know.” 

“How can you not know?” 

Greg chuckled. “Well, technically it was you who introduced him to me.” 

“You entered my flat while I was having an argument with my brother.” 

Lestrade lifted his hands in surrender. “Hey! I had a case and you just happened to be with Mycroft. In the end you did introduce me to him.” 

“And?” 

“And?” The D.I. felt so uncomfortable. “I don’t know. When you introduced us… you remember… Mycroft just simply stared at me for a good five minutes. And next thing you know, he smiles at me and slips me his number in my hand. Next thing you know, I’m texting him and then he started with the whole courting thing and basically making me feel… noticed. After that, we became a couple and I don’t know, he makes me feel happy. I wouldn’t call it love at first sight but it just felt right to be with him. And once I felt comfortable with him and I realized that he loved me for me, I just knew he was the one.” 

Sherlock scrunched his nose in disappointment. “Sounds like a Disney film.” 

“What do you want me to say? Why are you even asking me these questions?” 

The detective stood up, facing him. “Like I said professional curiosity.” 

Greg didn’t believe Sherlock. “Does this have anything to do with John?” 

“Why do you say that?” 

Lestrade poked the detective in his chest. “Because normal people don’t have these types of conversations. And since you’re not normal, this just makes things fucking weird.” 

“I’m simply chatting.” 

The D.I. snorted. “Yeah, simply chatting means poking your nose in my relationship with your brother.” 

The detective removed his gloves. “It was the wife. She learned the nature of her husband having an affair with her best friend and to get revenge, she murdered her husband. And she framed her best friend so she can rot in jail. The wife tortured her husband first, if you see the deep lacerations on the man’s wrists, its obvious that she tied him up and proceeded to acquire a knife and slash the man’s stomach. Congratulations, another case solved. Have a nice day Lestrade.” 

Greg grabbed Sherlock’s arm. “You have blood on your sleeve.” 

The detective looked down at his exposed sleeve and suddenly felt very angry. “Thank you. Perhaps I let my arm linger a little too close to the body.” 

“Sherlock, are you sure you’re okay?” 

Sherlock faced the D.I. “Perfectly fine.” 

  
  
*-* 

  
  
Mycroft dropped off John at 221B. “Thank you for today John.” 

“No problem. We should do it again.” 

Mycroft smiled. “Of course, we will.” 

The blond waved goodbye to the older man. “Let me know if Greg likes his new clothes.” 

“Will do. Farewell John.” 

The black car rolled away and John entered the flat, taking up his new clothes to his room. He deposited the heavy load onto his bed and went back downstairs to see if Sherlock was here. The blond searched through every room and the detective was nowhere to be found. 

He’s probably off on a case with Greg, yup. 

John went upstairs and proceeded to fix his new clothes. 

It was night already and the blond was calmly reading a book in his bed when he heard the door downstairs being slammed shut. 

Once Sherlock left Lestrade, the detective spent the whole day running through the streets, overthinking the situation that happened in the morning. 

What the hell? Sherlock was a brilliant human being, ever since he was young. Surpassing everyone in his classes and making a name for himself. Any problem in front of him, he could solve it in three seconds. There were better things in this world than having feelings for someone. Hell, being a murderer would be more exciting. The world was at the palm of his hand, yet why the fuck was he internally rambling about the status between him and John. This was fucking stupid, he didn’t need this type of stress. 

John was nothing to him, just a colleague, a person he lived with and shared the rent with. Nothing big or complicated, if the blond left, he would be perfectly fine… right? 

Of course, I’d be alright. I’ve been alone my whole life, I can be alone for the next few years. I don’t need John. Or do I? Dammit! What is wrong with me?! And this stupid stain on my sleeve is so fucking annoying! Why the hell does Mycroft bring these ideas into my head?! Useless. Stupid. Dull. Boring. 

The detective reached his flat and slammed the door behind him. He was so angry at himself for being distracted and it wasn’t even a good distraction! Sherlock didn’t like feeling lost or confused, it annoyed the bloody hell out of him. He ripped off his coat and flung it on the couch. The detective approached the mirror in the living room that hung above the mantelpiece that housed his skull. He looked at himself in the mirror and violently began to unbutton his shirt. 

The blond reached the bottom of the stairs and witnessed Sherlock desperately trying to unbutton his shirt. The detective was impatient and he forced the still buttoned shirt over his head when he caught the reflection of John through the mirror. 

Sherlock turned around, his shirt covering his forearms as he looked at the blond. Already, John could see that something was bothering the detective and one wrong move or word could make Sherlock blow into raging chunks of anger. 

The blond approached the detective. “Your shirt. Do you need help?” 

Sherlock felt his anger cooling down and allowed John to come closer. “Yes. Please.” 

The blond came closer and slipped the shirt off the detective’s arms. He looked up at Sherlock and offered a small smile. John looked down at the detective’s exposed torso and carefully ran his hand over the broad smooth chest. Sherlock felt his breath hitching at the touch but before he could do anything, the blond pulled away. 

“Your shirt has a stain.” 

“Blood.” 

John nodded and stepped back. “I can take it out for you. I’m really good at removing stains.” 

“Thank you.” 

The blond turned his back and went upstairs, with the stained shirt in hand. 

Once he disappeared, the detective cradled his head and took deep breaths. “What the hell is happening?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be my interpretation of the Blind Banker.

**Author's Note:**

> A friendly reminder, this is my fic and if you do not like the way I portray the characters then please don’t waste your time reading this and then leaving a mean comment. If what I write is not to your liking, then please find another author who will satisfy your cravings. Other than that, enjoy! Toodles :)


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